


Identical Entity Identity

by MagitekUnit05953234



Series: Like Real People Do [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Identity Issues, Mentioned Prompto Argentum, Minor Xenophobia Mention, Surprisingly not as dark as you probably expect, World of Ruin, You guys loved Maris so here is more of him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 12:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagitekUnit05953234/pseuds/MagitekUnit05953234
Summary: “I don’t understand humans sometimes,” Maris sips at his tea, just a bit too hot but nothing he can’t handle. He doesn’t particularly like tea, but he knows he shouldn’t be rude and say so.Ignis makes an odd face.





	Identical Entity Identity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skitty_titty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skitty_titty/gifts).



> You guys loved Maris. Here is more Maris. He's a sweet boy.  
> This fic is exactly the amount of words to bring me to a 100,000 word total posted on ao3. It's been a wild ride, guys. Here's to 100,000 more!

“I don’t understand you all sometimes,” Maris sips at the tea, just a bit too hot but nothing he can’t handle. He doesn’t particularly like tea, but he knows he shouldn’t be rude and say so. 

“Understand whom?” Ignis asks. He’s sitting across the short table, nursing his own drink. “Lucians?”

“Humans,” Maris waves his open hand vaguely. He never used to do such things.

“Ah,” Ignis makes an odd face. 

Maris places his mug on the table and runs a hand over his hair, newly shorn and feeling sort of soft and prickly at the same time. He likes it when his hair is short. He’s glad Prompto cut it for him. He couldn't imagine growing his hair out like Prompto does. It would be in his face all the time, and would become such a bother. 

“What confuses you?” Ignis asks eventually. “About… humans?”

There’s a sudden noise from outside. Yelling. Ignis turns his head toward the window, brow furrowing. 

Maris rises and crosses the room to look out. Across the street and several stories below, a blond man breaks away from a muscular brunet who was pinning him to the wall, screaming in his face. Maris can faintly hear the words the dark-haired man is yelling. 

_ Dirty Niff.  _

“What is it?” Ignis is still sitting at the table, but he’s abandoned his tea. He looks tense, like he’s about to enter a combat test. Maris is familiar with the feeling. 

“It’s nothing,” Maris hates this part of town. He hates all the people. He hates the way the humans turn against one another.

“Right,” Ignis doesn’t seem satisfied by that answer, but he doesn’t push. “In that case… you never answered me.”

Maris lingers by the window. Watches someone dressed in Lucian military fatigues break up the fight and leave with the other Lucian in tow. “I don’t understand why humans are so. I don’t know. I don’t know how to say it.”

Ignis waits. 

“Humans want to be… important. You want to be one out of many. It isn’t enough to be  _ part _ of the many. You have to be individual, and you change the way you look and talk to make sure that other humans know you are,” Maris wonders why the human still left on the street hasn’t moved yet. The human, the Niff, leans against the wall and stares up at the empty sky. Maris steps away from the window. He doesn’t want this person to catch a glimpse of him. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Is it so wrong to want an identity of your own?”

Something is welling up in Maris’s ribs. He rubs his hands over his hair once, twice. “It’s inefficient. You want unity, but make yourselves different.”

“Is  _ is _ inefficient,” Ignis finally gets up from the table. He carries his mug to the counter and refills it with hot water. “No matter what we may say, humans are not efficient creatures. We prefer what makes us feel good over what is logical. Above all, we want to feel valued and unique. Expressing ourselves through our appearances or nationalities is one way to do so.”

“Where I come from,” Maris can’t find the words for a moment. It’s an unfortunately common happenstance for him, especially when Prompto is out hunting and Maris is left to his own devices. He visits Prompto’s comrades when the apartment feels too empty, and it’s… vaguely comfortable. Mostly. “Where I come from, I didn’t see many humans. I wasn’t awake very often, and when I was it was for training. Lower level MTs were taught combat by higher level MTs, but humans taught the rest. Language and… similar things. I was around MTs mostly, and we were all the same. No…  _ identity _ . The only thing that made us different was production year and serial codes.”

Ignis rummages in a drawer. After a moment, he extracts a small box and runs his fingertips over the bumpy label affixed to the front. “How do you feel about that, now that you have been away for so long?”

Maris wishes he had something to do with his hands. He settles for touching the edges of his hairline. Feeling where smooth skin gives way to what Prompto described as “peach fuzz.” He likes his hair. He didn’t like it before, in the facility, even though it was almost exactly like this. He didn’t like anything. He just  _ was _ . He existed. 

Something’s changed. 

Maris doesn’t understand humans. He isn't sure he understands himself either. 

“I don’t know.”

Ignis nods. He finishes making his tea and drops the bag in the wastebin beneath the sink. “You don’t have to know right now. You don’t have to know five years from now. Just focus on living as you are and the rest will come with time.”

Maris thinks he can do that. 


End file.
